Yet to Be
by Deb3
Summary: 16th in the Fearful Symmetry series. Horatio decides that he's getting old. Can Calleigh and Rosalind help him regain his perspective?


Title: Yet to Be  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: CSIM still isn't mine. This series is, though. I think it's almost taken on a life of its own. Maybe some day, they will match. Until then, Jerry, this is how things should be, in case you're taking notes.  
  
Series Recap: 16th in the Fearful Symmetry series. Fearful Symmetry, Can't Fight This Feeling, Gold Medals, Surprises, Honeymoon, Blackout, the Hopes and Fears, Anniversary, Framed, Sight for Sore Eyes, Trials and Tribbulations, Premonition, Do No Harm, the CSI Who Loved Me, Complications, and Yet to Be. All at Lonely Road and on fanfiction.net.  
  
A/N: For several months after I started work on Complications, there was nothing developing to follow it. I even wondered if the series would end there. It would have been a nice concluding point. I certainly expected the next story, when it came, to involve a new case, but apparently my muse begs to differ. I didn't like Yet to Be when it first presented itself, for the same reason I didn't like Anniversary originally, because I wish things could be different. If I had my choice, love would easily conquer internal obstacles, even if not criminals, and the whole story would be Horatio and Calleigh riding off into the sunset on a white horse, or maybe even a Friesian (the black horse in the movie Ladyhawke is a Friesian. The first man I meet who wants to carry me off into the sunset on a Friesian has me, no further questions asked). My muse objected to my romantic ideals, though, on the grounds that getting over things so easily is unrealistic. I know, this is fic, but I do like stories to be realistic, something I could picture actually happening. Also, having created the series, I have to stay true to it, and in the world of FS, this story had to happen. So Yet to Be gradually won me over. It was a very cooperative story, and it really wanted to be written. This little piece of angst- fluff is an aftermath of Complications. It is a story unto itself, with its own complete conflict and resolution, but that plot takes off from the events of Complications. You must read that story first to understand what's going on. It would really help to read Fearful Symmetry and Anniversary first, too, but at least read Complications.  
  
***  
  
"Grow old along with me. The best is yet to be. The last of life, for which the first was made."  
  
Robert Browning  
  
***  
  
The new and improved version of Calleigh's alarm clock went off, dragging her from sleep. She sat up quickly and went across the hall to the nursery. Rosalind stopped crying as she saw her mother approaching the crib. "Rosalind. Good morning, angel." Calleigh picked her daughter up. "Or afternoon or whatever it is." She glanced at her watch. 2:00 PM. It took longer to work out the date, but backtracking mentally through awakenings, she finally managed it. It was April 8th. She finished changing Rosalind, then picked her up again and took her back into the bedroom. She climbed into bed again next to Horatio and lay there staring at him thoughtfully as she nursed their daughter. Horatio had barely stirred when Rosalind started crying, and he was deeply asleep again now. Calleigh watched him with a worried frown between her eyes.  
  
Horatio had been discharged from the hospital on March 29, just over one month after he had gone into it. At that, Horatio and Calleigh had both had to battle the doctors. The infection that had nearly killed him was finally beaten, but it had left him weak, shaky, and frighteningly thin. The doctors wanted to keep him another week or two at least, using IVs to build his general condition up more until his appetite returned. They had warned that he wasn't strong enough to leave yet, even though the fever was gone. Horatio had insisted he'd do better at home, and Calleigh had backed him up, but she knew, which the doctors didn't, what he would be dealing with almost immediately, and it terrified her. Still, staying in the hospital would just make the next week much worse for him. So she had sided with him and brought him home, and she spent those precious few days taking care of him, trying to get his strength built up, feeding him as much as she could get him to eat. He was glad to be home, delighted to be able to spend time with her and Rosalind, and he had really seemed to be doing a lot better.  
  
Then came April 3rd, which started the four-day annual reliving of his mother's death and its investigation. At first, it had been a big improvement. He and Calleigh had worked on this extensively last year, trying to replace the relentless images with something else. This year seemed to pick up where that process had left off. He could, those first two days, replace it and refocus much better than last year. It required a definite conscious effort, but it could be done. At least, it could when he was awake; the dreams weren't any better yet. They were both encouraged, though. For two days, things had been hard but much better than previous years. They even talked confidently of the future while celebrating their personal anniversary the first night, anticipating complete resolution before much longer.  
  
Like a race car suddenly spinning and crashing into the wall just when it seemed to be headed for victory, on the third day, Horatio abruptly and completely ran out of strength. The ordeal of the last several weeks had left his reserves dangerously low in the first place, and there simply hadn't been time to build them back up. The effort required to refocus his mind those first days had drained what little energy he had. The third morning, Calleigh, tired herself from trying to support him and care for Rosalind at the same time, had dropped off into a deep sleep for several hours, losing consciousness of everything, even him. He had woken her up when Rosalind could no longer be settled down and was demanding to be nursed. Weak, on crutches, and hampered by his broken leg, Horatio could not safely pick their daughter up, so his efforts to care for her were limited. He had tried, though, just as he tried to force himself to deal with the assault of images alone and give Calleigh a chance to sleep. He finally woke her up when he had no choice, for Rosalind's sake, not his, and she knew instantly, looking into his eyes, that it had all been too much. Not just her few hours of sleep, although she could have kicked herself for it, but everything added together. He had fought so long and hard, with no respite, and his strength had finally snapped under it. He had nothing left to give to his ordeal. The images crowded in with all the force of earlier years and more, the flood picking him up and tossing him along helplessly in its current. He had never in his life been so run down starting that week, and now, suddenly, it overwhelmed him.  
  
In desperation, Calleigh decided to simply drug him, knock him out for the remaining two days, and Horatio, unfortunately, had caught her at it. Unbelievably, his stubbornness was still there, although she had no idea what could be propping it up. He refused to let her give him anything, insisting, even while his eyes acknowledged the lie, that he could deal with it. Even worse, he turned suspicious that she would try to slip him something anyway, as indeed she did try to do. He never had much appetite during that week, but now he resisted taking anything at all from her, food or drink. This only added to his overall weakness, and by the end of it all, the afternoon of the 6th, he had totally collapsed, worn down to the thin ghost of himself.  
  
Once he finally was able to sleep, Calleigh just left him in bed, figuring the rest was the best thing for him. She woke him up at intervals and managed to get him to drink a glass of water now and then by absolutely swearing that she had added nothing to it. She couldn't get him to stay awake longer than a few minutes, though, and she still couldn't get him to eat. Calleigh lay there now holding Rosalind and studying him. She knew that he was in worse shape than he had been on leaving the hospital, and she wasn't sure what to do about it. Putting him back in would seem to him like a betrayal, even if it was for his own good. She had hoped that things would get better once they were past the 6th, but he had been sleeping like that, almost like she had in fact drugged him, for two days, and he didn't seem to be recharging at all.  
  
The mental exhaustion worried her as much as the physical. She realized how much it was simply a casualty of his physical condition at the moment, but she wasn't sure that Horatio could reach that explanation from the middle of it, even as gifted at analysis as he was. His mind, his strength of spirit had been battered throughout his life, but he had always held firm, like a willow, bending and tossing in the wind but remarkably managing to stay upright, though scarred. Never before had his mental reserves totally folded, like a card table's legs collapsing, and abandoned him. The look in his eyes when she would wake him up scared her. Something had changed in his mind, something she didn't fully understand, but she did realize that he no longer believed he would get better. She knew that sending him back to the hospital right now, while it might help him physically, would seem like the final abandonment from the one person he had thought he could trust.  
  
Rosalind finished nursing and lay there in well-fed contentment, and Calleigh studied her daughter, hoping for inspiration. She absolutely had to get some food into him. He hadn't eaten anything for days, and the cycle of weakness was feeding on itself now. She reached over to touch him lightly, making sure that the fever hadn't returned, but it had burned completely out. Trouble was, so had all of the inner fire that made him Horatio. She decided to make tonight one last, all-out effort to get him to eat. If he didn't start showing signs of improvement by tomorrow, though, she would have no choice but to take him back to the hospital.  
  
With a sigh, Calleigh got up and took Rosalind across to her room, dressing her in one of the cute little outfits she and Horatio had picked out together what seemed like ages ago. An idea suddenly struck her. April 7th had been Horatio's birthday. He had always hated his birthday, never even giving people the date, and she realized why since getting to know him. The 7th was the first day in a week every year that he could really sleep, and he'd never felt like doing anything special with it. She hadn't even known when his birthday was until after they started seeing each other. She had gotten him presents since then, giving them to him late, but he never mentioned his birthday himself. This year, they had both slept all day on the 7th, Calleigh worn out herself by worry, but she suddenly decided now to get Horatio a birthday cake. A bit late, but still a cake. It would be his first birthday with Rosalind, after all. He liked cake. And maybe she could get him to eat food she hadn't prepared. She had actually planned a present for him, and she realized now that she had forgotten about it in the strain of the last week. Calleigh quickly got dressed herself. "We're going to celebrate, Rosalind," she told her daughter with forced cheerfulness. "Come on. Let's go for a ride." She thought of writing Horatio a note, but as much as she wished that it was necessary, she knew he wouldn't rouse enough to notice her absence. Chewing her lip with worry but steps brisk with determination, she grabbed the keys to her new Jeep and headed out with Rosalind to get what she needed for Horatio's birthday.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh heard the phone ringing as she unlocked their door. Swearing as she juggled baby, packages, diaper bag, purse, and keys, she finally managed to get the lock open. The phone had stopped on the fourth ring, but she didn't hear the answering machine in the kitchen click on. She dumped all her purchases on the table and headed for the bedroom. She could hear his voice. Apparently, the phone had succeeded in finally waking him up.  
  
"Yes, Alexx, everything is fine." He looked up at Calleigh as she entered the bedroom and gave her a hollow smile. "Yes, she is. Just a minute." He handed the receiver to Calleigh, exchanging it for Rosalind.  
  
"Hi, Alexx." Calleigh realized abruptly that she hadn't heard from Alexx for a complete week. How odd, she thought. It's almost like she knew something was going on.  
  
"Calleigh, how is everything? Is Horatio okay?" The ME's warm voice was full of concern, sounding like she had forced herself to hold off on calling this long but couldn't take it anymore.  
  
"Yes, Alexx, everything's fine," Calleigh said with forced brightness. She studied Horatio. He was looking at Rosalind affectionately, but he had laid back down, and his blue eyes still had no sparkle at all to them, only that same bottomless, hopeless tiredness, with that frightening difference that she couldn't quite grasp underlying everything.  
  
There was a pregnant pause. "What about Horatio? He sounded . . . odd."  
  
"No, we're doing fine. You don't have to worry."  
  
"You don't want him to hear this, do you?" asked Alexx shrewdly.  
  
"That's about the size of it, yep," Calleigh agreed. "We'd better go, Alexx. We were just about to eat."  
  
Alexx hesitated. "Would you like me to bring some food over for you? Do you need any help?"  
  
"Not tonight, Alexx. We're fine, really." If Alexx saw Horatio at the moment, she would haul him back to the hospital herself. Calleigh wasn't quite ready to join her in the effort, although another day of this would swing the balance.  
  
"Call me later, when you get a chance to talk," Alexx insisted.  
  
"I will," Calleigh said sincerely. "Thanks, Alexx." She hung up the phone and went around to Horatio's side of the bed. "Okay, Horatio, food is here."  
  
"I'm not hungry," he responded automatically. His eyes were falling shut again, and she shook him.  
  
"Wrong. You have to be starving by now. You just haven't let yourself notice. Come on, I just bought us takeout, and I swear, I haven't put anything at all in it. Direct delivery from the Chinese place, with no interference along the way."  
  
He gave her a weak grin. "Promise?"  
  
"Cross my heart and hope to die," she said, hoping the childish phrase would amuse him. It did, briefly. "Come on, Horatio. Get up. I'm not letting you fall back asleep this time until you've eaten something. I'll tickle you if I have to."  
  
He smiled again, a little stronger. "Bet you would, too."  
  
"You'd better believe it. Get up, Horatio. It's getting cold."  
  
He finally shifted, sitting up on the side of the bed. She handed him his crutches and steadied him as he heaved himself up and wavered a minute. "Easy. Take it slow." She wasn't surprised at how shaky he was. He had to be practically hollow at this point. She steered him toward the door, holding on until she was convinced that his balance was sufficient, then picked up Rosalind from the bed and followed his hesitant progress down the hall.  
  
Calleigh got Horatio settled on the couch and propped his leg up on a cushion. He was supposed to be keeping it elevated as much as possible, not that that had been a problem the last few days. Once he was comfortable, she put Rosalind in his arms, hoping to keep him awake. His daughter still seemed to be able to reach him, even if weakly. She loved being held by her father, which was convenient because it was about all he could do with her right now. "Hold her for a second. Be right back." She sorted things out on the kitchen table, then returned with the containers from the Chinese place and sat down herself on the coffee table, opening them.  
  
Horatio pushed himself up a bit in weak protest as the loaded fork approached. "Calleigh, you don't have to feed me." His words gave her a perfect opportunity to shove the food into his open mouth.  
  
"Yes, I do. You're holding the baby." He smiled a bit as he looked back down at Rosalind. He was indeed holding his own baby. Reflexes took over, and he started to chew slowly. Calleigh waited until he had swallowed that bite and inserted another one. He seemed to decide that it would take more energy to resist her than to yield. Even the eating was an effort that tired him out, though. Calleigh had plenty of time to finish her own meal in between giving him bites. Still, this was better than the last several days, even though the sight of Horatio simply taking the path of least resistance scared her all over again. It took almost an hour, but she managed to get him to eat most of the container and finish his drink.  
  
"Now, for the best part," she said brightly. Horatio's eyes were half closed, but they opened a bit wider at that.  
  
"The best part?"  
  
"Dessert, of course." She took the food containers back to the kitchen and returned with two saucers, a knife, and the cake she had picked up. It was a generic birthday cake bought off the shelf in a hurry, but it was chocolate, his favorite flavor. "Happy birthday, Horatio. Actually, your birthday was yesterday, but better late than never." She held it out for him to see before she started cutting it. "We'll dispense with candles, okay?"  
  
He gave her a wry smile. "I doubt they make packages with that many candles, anyway."  
  
Calleigh stopped in the middle of cutting him a slice. His eyes were fully open again, but they had traveled back to Rosalind, and there was definite sadness underlying the affection. The difference in expression was stronger now, and she suddenly recognized what it was. She was very glad she hadn't gotten candles. She finished cutting two pieces and gave him a bite, smiling at Rosalind, attempting to distract him from his obvious thoughts. "Just wait until next year, Rosalind. We'll give you a bite of it next year. Birthday cake is one of the great rewards of life." She took a bite herself and fished up another one for Horatio. "Good cake, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes," he said without any conviction. He was chewing it a little faster than the Chinese food, though. His body seemed to recognize the treat, even if his mind didn't. His eyes were still on Rosalind. "Do you realize, Cal, that when she graduates from high school, I'll be in my mid 60s?" He didn't add, if I'm still alive then, but the thought hovered in the room unspoken.  
  
Calleigh sighed and set down the fork. "You are not getting old, Horatio. You've got decades left before you'll be old physically, and even then, age is a state of mind. We're growing young together, remember?" The trouble was, she had a good idea of his state of mind at the moment, and it was far older than his body. She remembered her present task and picked the fork back up.  
  
He accepted another bite, chewing it thoughtfully. His dull eyes finally left his daughter to travel back to his wife. "I feel absolutely ancient, Cal," he said, and the simple brokenness of the statement cracked her heart.  
  
"Horatio, you're just coming off a week straight from hell, followed by a month in the hospital, followed by another week straight from hell. I realize you feel old right now, but it's only because of everything you've been through. It's temporary."  
  
He shook his head. "I don't think so."  
  
"Think back to February, before Otis. Remember how much we were looking forward to this? You didn't feel old then, did you?" He shook his head slightly after a moment. She fed him another bite of cake. "Trust me, Horatio, you're just run down at the moment, but you'll get better. It won't be like this when Rosalind graduates from high school. You're feeling a little less shaky now than you were an hour ago, right?"  
  
He analyzed that, comparing the values, and sounded almost surprised at the answer. "A little bit."  
  
"See? You just need food and rest, and things will get better. A lot of food, and a lot of rest." She gave him another bite. "Horatio, trust me, this is just because of that infection. It's throwing your perspective off at the moment, but that doesn't mean you're getting old. In fact, you know what the doctor told me at the hospital?"  
  
"What?" The curiosity was more polite than interested, though.  
  
"He was amazed that you survived at all. He said you must have had the physical condition of someone half your age going into all this."  
  
That got his attention. "He really said that?"  
  
"Yes," she said truthfully. "Here, have another bite. Horatio, anyone on earth, from age 1 on up, who had been through what you've been through would be feeling half dead at this point. That's perfectly normal. You know the medical facts yourself. Think about it."  
  
He did so, considering that while she finished feeding him his piece of cake. "It's just putting a bigger burden on you, though. I can't even pick up my own daughter."  
  
Calleigh suddenly realized what this conversation was about. She wanted to hit him. "Horatio Caine, if you were in any better shape for it, I'd beat your head against the wall to try to knock some sense into it. That's what you're really worried about, isn't it? That you'll be a burden on me? And even on Rosalind? From now on?" That was it exactly. She saw it in his eyes. Rosalind growing up, forced to always tend to her aging father instead of enjoying a normal childhood. Calleigh roped to a marriage with a husband too tired to participate. Both of them sacrificing their lives to his ever-increasing frailty with nothing in return. It was all written across his face. "Don't you ever think about yourself? You haven't even analyzed it from your point of view, have you? If you had, you'd realize that you have every reason on earth to feel weak right now. You're just thinking that we'll have to take care of you from now on, and it will interfere with our lives." Fiercely angry, she put the empty saucers down and closed the gap between them, kissing him almost harshly, squeezing him against her until Rosalind, trapped between them, let out a protesting squeak. Calleigh straightened up, meeting his stunned eyes. "Sorry, Rosalind. Just trying to kiss some sense into your father. Horatio, you are not a burden to us. Not right now, and certainly not for the rest of your life. We wouldn't even be here, either one of us, if it weren't for you."  
  
His eyes shifted suddenly and traveled down to the heavy cast on his leg. He honestly hadn't considered it, Calleigh realized. He was only aware of the condition he was in and had discarded the circumstances behind it. Her voice softened a bit. "I know you can't remember all of it, Horatio, but you can remember enough. You know what happened. That's the only reason you're so worn out. It has nothing to do with age."  
  
His weary eyes met hers. "That doesn't explain this week, though. Otis was over a month ago, and the infection is gone. But this anniversary has never been as hard as it was this year. I'm just getting too old to deal with it. I hate to think what next year will be like."  
  
Calleigh sighed again, wondering how she could pound some perspective into him. "Horatio, it totally explains this week. Remember the first two days? It was a lot better, and the only reason it went wrong after that is because you'd been hurt. Not because you're getting old, just because you'd been hurt and were still run down from it. That isn't something you should have just gotten over by now, Horatio. That infection nearly killed you. It's still affecting you, and that's perfectly understandable. The doctors even warned us it would take more time for you to start feeling stronger. And about the anniversary, I'll tell you what next year will be like. It'll be even better than those first two days. We're winning, Horatio."  
  
He still didn't look convinced. Calleigh switched strategies. She leaned over and kissed him again, much more gently, lingering this time, including Rosalind in her embrace. "I know a way to make you feel young again. I'm afraid you're going to have to wait for it, though."  
  
A faint ember of humor – and of something else – appeared in his eyes. "How long?"  
  
"Depends on how fast you regain your strength. And that depends on you eating." She gathered up the saucers and headed for the kitchen, rinsing the dishes while she made coffee, giving him time to digest her points, hopefully. She returned finally with two cups. "Here, drink all of that, and then I'll let you sleep again. Getting dehydrated and starving yourself isn't going to help anybody, us or you." He still hesitated. "And there's nothing in it. I promise. I won't try to drug you again, unless I absolutely have to."  
  
He took the cup with the ghost, at least, of his old smile. "I'd feel better about that promise if you deleted the last bit."  
  
"Sorry, that's as good as I can give you." She smiled at him, and his eyes drank her, even while he drank the coffee. Calleigh's unbeatable spirit. Maybe she had enough to keep them both going until things got better. Maybe things actually would get better. He wondered for the first time in the last few days.  
  
"Thank you for the cake," he said as he finished the coffee. His courtesy was still alive, at least.  
  
"You're welcome." She thought of getting his present, then decided to put it off to later. The food had definitely helped, but the tiredness was overwhelming him again. He was simply too weak to do anything for long. "How long is it since you had a birthday cake?"  
  
"Since my mother," he replied. She squeezed his arm.  
  
"All these years, no one else has ever gotten you one?"  
  
He shook his head. "I've never wanted to do anything on my birthday since then."  
  
"I can understand that," Calleigh assured him. "We're starting a new tradition, though. Remember, I promised Rosalind a bite of your cake next year."  
  
He smiled. "Mom used to make it into a big occasion. Me and Ray both. She'd have a cake and presents, and she'd make up a song for us on the piano. New song, every year, and she'd sing and play it for us. She had a wonderful voice."  
  
Calleigh glanced at the piano. "She wrote music? Do you have any of them?"  
  
"Not the birthday songs. She never wrote them down. She said they were written on her heart, and she didn't have to put them on paper." His eyes went soft at the memory.  
  
"You remember them, though. You could write them down, couldn't you?"  
  
He didn't challenge that he could. "I remember her singing them. Not just the songs themselves. I'd rather leave it that way. And for years, I couldn't remember them."  
  
Calleigh remembered abruptly that for almost 30 years, Horatio hadn't been able to remember what his mother looked like. His only mental picture of her had been her murdered body as he had found it, and that one overrode everything else, even her singing the birthday songs. He followed her train of thought. "I do remember them now. Thank you for that, Calleigh." He was practically sinking into the couch.  
  
She leaned over and kissed him again. "Rosalind's getting sleepy. We'd better get back to the bedroom. You need to rest some more, too."  
  
He shook his head. "I don't want to move, Cal. Just let me stay here a while." Walking down the hall was too much effort at the moment, she realized. She looked at Rosalind, pillowed on his chest, with both of his arms wrapped securely around her. Rosalind's half–closed eyes looked lazily back at her.  
  
"Okay. We don't have to get up." She smiled at him. "My mother used to sing to me, too. When I was a little girl, before she got started drinking so much. Not original songs she'd written, of course, but lullabies. She'd sing us to sleep at night. It's one of the happiest memories of my childhood." She looked at her own daughter and gradually, softly started to sing herself. The old songs her mother had sung came back to her easily across the years. She sat there on the edge of the coffee table, singing to both of them. Horatio, watching her hazily, thought that she looked like an angel in the lamplight. She had a beautiful singing voice, and he wondered why she hadn't used it more often. Then, thinking of much of her life, he knew why she hadn't used it more often. The music wrapped around his consciousness, totally unlike his mother's songs but absolutely relentless, calling him like a siren, leaving him powerless to resist the spell. His own eyes drifted closed as the music carried him away into rest.  
  
Calleigh kept singing until she was sure both of them were sound asleep. She got up softly then and went into the kitchen, washing the dishes they had used. She fixed the present to give him later, then went back into the living room and gently placed an afghan over both of them, tucking them in. They both knew her hands, and neither one stirred. She sat down in the recliner in the living room, keeping watch, studying Rosalind's peaceful face and Horatio's tired one. She wondered if focusing on his birthday had been a mistake. No, she decided, he had come to the conclusion that he was old well before she gave him the cake; the gift had just prompted him to talk about it, which wasn't a bad thing. But how could she win over this with him in the physical shape he was in at the moment? Making him feel young again would be a challenge when he really was too weak to do anything. And would his body in fact improve without his spirit driving it? At least he had eaten something, and he had talked to her a little. After over an hour sitting there, she finally got up softly. Rosalind was still on his chest, but she didn't think Horatio would let her fall off the couch. Even asleep, he would look out for others. She softly crept into the bedroom, closed the door three-quarters of the way, then stretched out on the bed herself, picked up the phone, and called Alexx.  
  
Her friend picked up the phone so quickly that she must have been sitting by it waiting for the call. "Calleigh. What's going on? How is Horatio?"  
  
Calleigh hesitated. "Before I answer that question, I'd like you to answer one. Why haven't you called for the last week?"  
  
Alexx's voice was as matter-of-fact as ever. "It was the anniversary of his mother's death, wasn't it? He always takes that week off. We're not sure exactly what happens, but whatever it is, I thought he wouldn't want us around. I didn't want to intrude."  
  
"We? You mean the others know, too?"  
  
"Just Speed and Eric. They're the ones who worked it out, back last year when he was framed for his ex-wife's murder. They came to me with it, and I told them to drop the subject and leave him alone."  
  
Calleigh gave a sigh of gratitude. "Thank you, Alexx. This gets kind of complicated."  
  
"I've got time. If you want to tell me, that is. All, part, or none, Calleigh, whatever you think is best."  
  
Calleigh launched into it, beginning back two years ago with her own discoveries, then last year, starting to try to replace it, then everything this year. It took over an hour, and Alexx never spoke, just listened. When she was sure Calleigh was done, she finally remarked, "The more I learn about him, the more I admire him, and the more I'd like to knock him flat."  
  
"Exactly," Calleigh agreed. "I was just thinking that a little while ago. I'm really worried about him now, Alexx, but I can't put him back in the hospital. He'd think I was giving up on him, that I didn't want to be bothered. He already feels like a burden to me."  
  
Alexx sighed. "We might not have a choice." With that one word, we, she took the weight from Calleigh's shoulders and divided it between them. "You did finally get him to eat?"  
  
"Yes, but tonight's the first time in days. And we did talk a little. He even ate a piece of chocolate cake. Not the greatest thing, nutritionally, but I figure anything helps."  
  
"Right. At this stage, feed him whatever you can get down him. I'd give it a day or so, see if this is a turning point, but don't let him lose any more ground."  
  
"He's getting so depressed with it, though. I realize it's completely physical, but he doesn't. This week on top of everything else was just too much for him, and he's totally overlooked Otis as the reason and decided it's because he's getting old. He's practically ready to check himself into a nursing home. He's never totally hit the bottom of his strength before, Alexx."  
  
"I know. Which is amazing, considering his life. I'm sure it was a shock to him. He hates losing control of things, himself most of all."  
  
Calleigh shuddered. "This wasn't him losing control, Alexx. He didn't even have that much part in it. Control just abandoned him. He didn't have anything left, physically or mentally. I tried to drug him, but he turned suspicious, and that just made it worse because he wouldn't let me get him anything. I honestly thought about hitting him over the head, but I was afraid he'd hurt his leg again falling." Her voice ran down slowly, quivering a bit as she remembered those few days.  
  
Alexx waited patiently until the silence took over again. "That part is over now, though?"  
  
"Yes. It's always just four days. That's how long the initial investigation took. But even though he can sleep now, Alexx, he isn't picking up like he usually does, and now he thinks it's going to be like this for the rest of his life. He just didn't have the strength to go through that, and it broke him. But if we send him back to the hospital, he'll think we want him out of our way."  
  
Alexx considered it. "We do need to watch him physically, no matter what he thinks our motives are. He's been through too much to let him get more run down. Maybe tonight was a turning point, though. Tell you what, Calleigh, you keep working on him, and I'll come by tomorrow night and check him over. We should know if he's starting to snap out of it by then, and we can decide where we have to go from there."  
  
Calleigh gave a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Alexx. I just didn't know what to do with him the last few days. I thought he'd feel better once he could sleep, but it didn't seem to be working."  
  
"Food and sleep together will work, hopefully, but he's got to eat. It really would have been better to keep him in the hospital longer, but I can see now why he didn't want to stay."  
  
"It would be like walking naked into a room full of strangers," Calleigh said. "Everyone on staff on that floor would have known things about him that none of his friends do. I couldn't leave him there, especially since I'm the only person he trusts with it. We really are making progress, too, Alexx. He remembers his mother clearly now, and even this week, things were a lot better until he hit the wall."  
  
"Keep reminding him of that. Hopefully his mindset will improve as he starts getting stronger. Try talking about Rosalind, too, her future, I mean, not how old he'll be during it. He was looking forward to this before he got hurt. Maybe you can recapture some of that enthusiasm. At least he isn't alone anymore. Or you either."  
  
"Right," Calleigh said gratefully.  
  
"Back to his physical condition, which I agree is steering everything at the moment, there are two things you might try. One is those nutri-shakes you can get in the store. Those things are power packed, and he likes milkshakes. Not that they taste totally like milkshakes, but they hardly taste bad, either. For the other suggestion, I think there might be another factor here we're not dealing with. I know this week was the final straw, but they were having trouble getting him to eat in the hospital, too. It occurs to me, he's had more antibiotics in the last month than most people get in a lifetime. That can kill the good bacteria as well as the bad, which would throw the whole system off. That could be a big part of the problem. Yogurt would replace them, if you could get him to eat it. It comes in dozens of flavors these days."  
  
Calleigh sighed in relief. The responsibility wasn't hers alone anymore. "Thanks, Alexx. I'll try that." At that moment, she heard Rosalind from the living room. "Oops, got to go. I'm being paged."  
  
Alexx laughed. "See you tomorrow night. Bye."  
  
Calleigh hurried toward the living room. Rosalind had stopped crying outright, but she was still fussing softly. Horatio was holding her, talking to her, but she wanted more than that, and he couldn't move safely while he had her. "Sorry," he said as Calleigh came into the room. "Did she wake you up?"  
  
"Not that time. I wasn't asleep. What's wrong, angel?" She picked her up. "Is life hard being a baby? It's only temporary." She changed her diaper and then settled back down in the living room recliner, feeding her. Horatio's eyes had fallen closed again. "Horatio, stay awake. I'll get you another piece of cake in a minute, soon as I'm done feeding her."  
  
His eyes opened a slit. "Are you going to put us on the same feeding schedule?" He sounded half annoyed, half amused.  
  
"I sure am. More convenient that way. Are you feeling any better?"  
  
"Not really," he said. His eyes looked a little clearer, though. The food had helped. She could tell, even if he couldn't.  
  
"You will. Trust me, Horatio. Things will get better." He looked over at her, but he didn't respond. The silence lengthened awkwardly. Finally, Calleigh smiled at him. "If you're feeling frustrated and useless, imagine what Rosalind must feel like. She can't even talk. She's totally helpless, and I'll bet she hates it."  
  
He smiled at that. "I'll bet she does. Sorry, Rosalind, but everybody has to start out that way. You'll get over it."  
  
"Yes, she will," Calleigh said, looking at him. His eyes went back to his leg. "Horatio, do you remember when I was blind for two weeks?"  
  
"I could hardly forget that, Cal."  
  
"One thing I've never forgotten from that is what you told me about Hannibal. Remember?"  
  
"100 feet at a time, across the mountains. That's not fair, Cal, turning my own story back on me."  
  
"It's your turn to need it. I remember how totally helpless and frustrated I was, so dependent on you, and you told me that it was just my turn, that it would probably be your turn next time. So you see, you were just being psychic. We'll add that to all your other great qualities." She stood up and passed Rosalind to him. "Just a second, and I'll be back with cake." She brought them each a slice and brought the present, too. He sat up a bit. "A present? You gave me the cake."  
  
"You deserve more than that. You're going to get it, too, every single year from now on." She put the saucers of cake on the coffee table and took Rosalind, freeing up his hands. "Go ahead and unwrap it."  
  
Calleigh had often thought that Horatio's method of unwrapping presents was enough to drive anyone crazy. He looked up at her, reading her mind, as he finished carefully splitting another seam of tape. "I can't help it, Cal. This is part of the package deal."  
  
"I know. I just don't understand how it's possible."  
  
He finally finished, sliding the present out of the unmarred paper. It came out wrong side up, and he turned it over. It was a studio picture of Rosalind, 8 x 10 and framed. He looked at it, smiling.  
  
"I had her first real pictures taken while you were in the hospital. We were going to give them to you together on your birthday, but I forgot about it this week. Didn't even think to pick them up until today. Anyway, that's from both of us."  
  
"Are you two going to do it again next year?" He caught himself slightly after the last two words. Next year. And he had actually said them with a fraction of anticipation. Calleigh heard it, too, and instantly pounced on it. Maybe Alexx had a point. Maybe Rosalind was the key.  
  
"We sure are. Other stuff too, of course, but we'll do that every year. It will be a nice record to have. Think of how much she'll grow every year. She's the future, Horatio. Her life is just starting, and so is our life with her. Imagine the possibilities."  
  
He at least tried. Calleigh gave him Rosalind back, set her picture up on the coffee table, and started working on the cake, feeding both of them. He studied his daughter. "I wonder if she'll ever find anyone half as remarkable as you," Calleigh said.  
  
"Or as remarkable as you," he replied. His mind picked up the thought from hers like the passing of a baton. She could tell that he really was picturing it, imagining the perfect man for Rosalind.  
  
She smiled at him, rejoicing at the slight spark in his eyes. She let her own imagination range over the future, trying to keep the ball rolling. "Think about her wedding, Horatio, if she does meet someone. You'll be giving her away. Walking down the aisle with your daughter. She'll kiss you and thank you for all the love you've given her, and then you'll give her to her own soul mate, and she can discover what we already have. And there's graduation from college to look forward to. Graduation from high school. All the time I was in labor, Horatio, you were imagining her future. So many milestones ahead of us. Do you remember that?"  
  
He considered it for a minute. "Vaguely. Like I'm hearing it through a filter. It's sketchy, though."  
  
"Of course it is," Calleigh said, deliberately misunderstanding him. Our dreams are just the outlines; it's up to her to fill in the detail. It's not just a dream anymore, Horatio. We've got it, right here in your hands. Think of who she'll be. Everything we thought she would, and more."  
  
Horatio studied her, his eyes sharpening up a bit in anticipation. "I wonder what her vocation will be. I hope she finds it. Not just a job, but a calling, something where she can make a difference in the world."  
  
"She'll find it. I wonder what she'll like. What will touch her soul."  
  
He nodded. "Blank canvas, just beginning to show the picture. We can't even know what it will be. I'm sure it will be a masterpiece, though." He smiled, looking at Rosalind. "Know what she reminds me of?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"A line out of Walt Whitman. 'The picture alive in its best light, the music falling in where it is wanted.' She's perfect, Cal. Better than perfect. She's real."  
  
"Yes. Think of watching her grow up. So much ahead of us. Imagine the possibilities, Horatio." They fell silent then, both of them doing just that. She finished feeding him the cake. "I think we need another piece," she said, getting up and cutting one for both of them. "I sure want one, anyway." His slight smile told her that he wasn't fooled, but he didn't object, either. Chocolate was his favorite flavor. She sat back down on the coffee table, giving them both another bite. The silence lengthened again, but it wasn't awkward this time.  
  
"Calleigh," he said thoughtfully after a few minutes, and she looked up from her daughter to meet his eyes. All of the bottomless tiredness was still there but not the hopelessness. "I do trust you."  
  
She leaned over and kissed him, then straightened up again but left one hand on his arm. A comfortable silence wrapped around the whole family, drawing them closer together as Horatio and Calleigh finished the cake and watched their daughter, admiring the future.  
  
*** ***  
  
This concludes the first season of CSI: Miami - Fearful Symmetry. The series goes on pause at this point as I focus on other things for several months. Thank you all for your support and feedback over this last year. The series is still alive and will return in the fall. The best is yet to be (I hope).  
  
Next season on CSI: Miami - Fearful Symmetry: "More Deadly." A serial killer is prowling the streets of Miami, but there is something different about this one. 


End file.
